


Sleeping Well

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Masturbation, hux has trouble asking for things he wants, silly boys arguing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7293427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After using Hux's mind to calm himself enough to sleep for months, Kylo isn't sure what to do when he has to stop. And not sleeping is making him increasingly frustrated.</p><p>Hux seems to be getting more annoyed every day. Something has to be done.</p><p>A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6971812">Sleep Aid</a> but can be read independently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theSinTin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSinTin/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my darling [@tezzypants](http://tezzypants.tumblr.com/), I present you with unabashed smut. (Y'all should go look at their wonderful shifter!Au)

Kylo tries. He really really tries. Actually, for four weeks, he succeeds. He stays firmly in his own head each night, tossing and turning on his bed in a vain attempt to fall asleep without the warm cradle of Hux's mind, the slow, methodical turn of Hux's thoughts. 

Sometimes, desperate to get just a few hours of sleep before an important meeting with Snoke or a long day of training, he lies back, remembers the last time he connected to Hux's thoughts. He thinks of those soft sounds, whimpers that had seemed so private, so much a part of Hux that would never be revealed. And that's good, so good. But what's even better – what has his back arching against the bed, hand tight around his cock as he tries desperately not to come at the first few touches – is the thought that they weren't so secret after all.

That Hux had _wanted_ to share them.

That Hux had put on a show just for him.

It helps a little, leaves him quiescent and sated, a pool of his own sweat dampening the sheets, come wiped away with the cloth he's taken to keeping next to his bed. But it's not the same. It's not the feeling he's come to rely on so much. That, he knows all too well, that he isn't going to find unless he reaches out again, connects to the one thing that will help, the one thing he has forbidden himself. 

And he wouldn't care so much, wouldn't worry about it, if not for one thing. Hux has said nothing. There was no confrontation the day after he had spied on Hux as he stroked himself to completion. Kylo had watched the General, eyes sharp and focused, traced his body. But there had been no sign of what had happened, except, maybe, a little hitch in Hux's step.

That had been bad enough, Kylo thinking of Hux's fingers painting his own hole with come as Kylo spied through his mind each time they met, that Kylo had not even tried to confront Hux himself. And when Hux had said nothing, he'd let the matter drop, as much as he can. And now, sitting on his bed before another night that will most certainly be spent tossing and turning in his bed, he admits it to himself. 

It's an addiction. 

And he's heard people speak of that before, of becoming addicted to someone else. But it's supposed to be to a lover, to another body, to another's touch. Not to the ice cold calm of a cruel man's mind. Not to the calm that only Hux's petty thoughts can bring. Certainly not to the feel of another's pleasure, half glimpsed during a single night. But Kylo leans back on the bed, already half hard at the thought of it. 

As he traces idle patters up his own chest, draws his legs onto the bed, he wonders if Hux is going to sleep as well. Without the guide of Hux's mind, his sleep, Kylo has lost his schedule, his guide. He isn't sure if Hux is even off shift right now, doesn't dare to reach out through the ship and check for fear he'll be drawn in, fall prey to temptation sharper than a razor. So instead he imagines the General, curled on his own bed, identical to Kylo's, just a few meters away on the other side of a few bulkheads, a closet.

In his fantasy world, Hux is wearing only tight sleep shorts, his hair mussed, his glance hazy. And Kylo feels his own body warm as he watches, constructs a dream of soft skin, a sharply bitten lip, slow moans and harsh whimpers. He knows what it sounds like now, has heard those incredible noises escaping Hux's lips, if only while connected to Hux's mind. In his imagination, though, he's standing in the room, perhaps sitting on one side of the bed, a hand placed next to Hux's head as he watches the General bring himself off. 

It's with a shout of surprise that Kylo comes.

It's far too short, not the satisfaction he has been craving. But he falls back against the bed with a sigh, come sliding across his chest, cock softening. It would be embarrassing, if anyone were here to see, if Hux were more than a dream. But there isn't anyone, and Kylo's eyes feel like sand. He'll clean up in the morning, worry about this in the morning. 

***

It's not only Kylo who has been irritable these past few weeks, he reminds himself. No, Hux has been almost as bad. And while his morning hasn't been the best – waking up covered in dried come, the stink of shame thick in the air is never the best – he doesn't know what is bothering Hux. And he can't look, can't peer inside Hux's mind to find out. That's off limits now.

So when Hux rounds on him, half way through the first shift, teeth snapping, eyes large, Kylo gives as good as he gets. And it's enough that Hux stalks off the bridge, gestures Kylo to follow him so that he can dart into the first open room, continue in private.

“And why you can't just request a shuttle like everyone else on this fucking ship...” Hux is swearing. This is a bad sign. A very bad sign. Kylo hasn't heard him swear in months, not since a fuel cell ruptured in one of the ventral canons. So he steps forward, clears his throat, glares long and hard. And slowly, slowly Hux's voice crawls to a stop. He passes a hand over his face, and Kylo can see the slight shake in those delicate fingers.

(Can't help but see those fingers plunging deep in Hux's ass, teasing, testing.)

“Forgive me, Ren.” This time, when he speaks, his voice is more stable. Yet now it's snide, a sarcastic snap rather than fractured anger. “I haven't been sleeping well, if you must know.” And for a moment Kylo thinks he hears something odd in that, but he's swallowed up in the panting, crushing, sweating rage that follows on the heels of Hux's words and can't think on their tone any longer. 

“You're tired, Hux? _YOU'RE TIRED?_ ” And he knows he's shouting, knows he's so close to Hux they might touch, but he can't stop himself, all the frustration from the past four weeks spilling out in front of him in a blind mess. “I haven't slept in weeks. And it's your fault, Hux, your fault that I'm losing my mind here. I can't even concentrate on meditation. I can't train.” The words are tumbling out, falling like blows, but Hux just stares at him, eyes wide and shoulders hunched. When he finally slows, Hux squints, eyes tight.

“And what do you expect me to do about that?” The odd edge is still there, something deeper than tired frustration.

“I _don't know_ , Hux. I just. We need to talk about this. Just. I can't keep on just ignoring this.” Hux sighs, but he nods as well.

“Tonight. Come to my quarters after third shift. We'll talk.”

 

***

When Kylo slips into Hux's quarters that night, Hux is in only his undershirt and trousers, perched in an armchair with a datapad in his lap. And it's enough like the fantasy Hux Kylo builds sometimes that he feels his breath speed involuntarily, feels his face flush a little before he can get himself under control. But then, Hux looks up, and his eyes are cold enough to cure even Kylo's flush. 

“You wanted to talk, Ren?” It's not the most auspicious beginning, but Kylo has had all day to plan what he's going to say, and he lets it out in a rush before he can talk himself out of it. 

“You know. I'm sure of it. And I... I can't sleep Hux. I've tried and tried, but I _need_ you. You're calming. And I don't know why you did what you did,” Kylo does flush now, at the memory of Hux jerking off, jerking off while he was certain Kylo haunted his mind. “But it doesn't matter. I just need it back. And I think you do too. I think you haven't been sleeping because I'm not there with you at the end of the day. And I just want to know why you haven't said anything. You weren't shy before.” For a moment, it looks like Hux is going to yell. But when he speaks, his voice is a hiss of contempt. 

“If you weren't such a coward, you would have said something before.” And it comes to Kylo, comes all in a flash that is so sudden that he staggers back a step, sinks into the couch that lines one of the walls. Hux is nervous. The sarcasm, the snide smirk in the mirror, it's a smokescreen. He's just as horrified by this addiction as Kylo himself. 

It's refreshing.

It's wonderful.

He and Hux share something. Something more than an apparently mutual need to fall asleep with minds entangled. Even if it's the fear of that need, the worry about discussing it, it is a starting point. And so, instead of railing against Hux's tone, his accusation, Kylo leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. 

“We need this. I don't like it any more than you do, but we can't keep pretending we don't.” Hux gives him a curt nod, stands. And he's stalking to the bedchamber door before Kylo knows what he's doing. 

“Well, are you coming?” And Kylo doesn't know what Hux is doing, was talking about sharing minds, not beds, but when Hux just stares at him, holding the door open, he almost trips over his robes as he hurries to follow. 

Once they're inside, Hux strips off his trousers, stands in the middle of the room in nothing more than tight briefs, thin, pale, beautiful. And Kylo thinks that now, can think that now. He pulls off his own robes, stands staring at Hux with only his leggings, feels his face twist in confusion. Hux is just staring. 

“I propose a trade.” His voice is breathy, strange. And he's looking at Kylo with something Kylo doesn't recognize in his eyes. It's fire, heat brighter than those pits of ice have ever held before. “You will continue to... use my mind as a pacifier.” Kylo grimaces, but says nothing. “And in exchange, I can get what satisfaction I want out of you.” And Hux runs his eyes up and down Kylo's bare chest in a way that makes Kylo flush.

It's dirty, wrong, and it feels that way. There's something off in Hux's glance, something that speaks of cesspool at the back of his mind, a pool of filth that Kylo has never thought to dip into before. But it burns through him too, a rush of need and a shiver of arousal. And Hux's licking his lips, slow and obviously. It should be amateur. But instead, somehow, it just adds to the sick feel in Kylo's stomach, the wrongness that is twisting him to knots and making his cock fill at the same time. 

“Do you... want me to touch you?” He gasps out, as Hux makes his way to the bed, eyes never leaving Kylo's body. Hux shakes his head. 

“Not tonight. Maybe, if I don't hate this little arrangement of ours, maybe later. But tonight, I'd just like to see. You've seen me, after all. I know you watched, that time, crept in my mind as I stroked myself off for you. So I want the same. I want to see you fuck yourself on those pretty hands. I want to see come painting your hand. If I like it enough – only if, mind you, Ren – then you can crawl back inside my mind and fall asleep.” Kylo nods, too fast, to quick to agree. But this doesn't seem like any sort of a bargain to him. He gets everything he wants. And he's glancing around, trying to figure out where Hux wants him. It's with a start that he realizes Hux is gesturing to the bed beside him. And he's across the floor in an instant, crawling up onto the bed. Hux is propped against the wall, perpendicular to the headboard. But he gestures for Kylo to lay himself out, to stretch on the mattress. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” And Kylo takes a deep breath, stills himself. It's going to be a miracle if he lasts at all, what with Hux's gaze still laying heavy on him, and the edges of that filthy gleam back in his eyes. 

He reaches down a hand, cups himself through his leggings. At first, Hux's face doesn't change, but then, as Kylo starts to trace light fingers around his cock, coax it from halfway to fully hard, Hux's lips part slightly, breath growing just barely audible. And it's enough that Kylo is all the way there, and the fabric of his leggings is too much, and he just has to get it off, off now.

Hux sighs as Kylo scrabbles to drag down his leggings, and Kylo can feel a twitch, a rush of need at the sound. It's what hit him most, those private soft noises that poured from Hux's mouth, and the thought that he might get to hear them in person now, might get to listen to them pour from Hux's lips, well it's enough that he pulls on his own hair roughly, arches his back in a new flush of arousal. 

Then he's tracing fingers around the head of his dick, quick touches to the vein that throbs along the underside, a firm stroke up the shaft. He can't help a groan at the feel, darts quick eye to Hux's face. And Hux is staring at him, a hand pressed across his boxers, pressed against the outline of his cock Kylo can see there, bulging out. And now he's stroking himself fully, can't help it, can't stop in the face of Hux's greedy expression. 

He looks, Kylo thinks for a single lucid moment, as though Kylo is a lake, and he a man dying of thirst. And Kylo smooths quick fingers over the head of his cock as he thinks about it, thinks about how Hux is here, right next to him, here and starting to pant at every twist of Kylo's hand. 

When Kylo reaches down, cups his own balls, then strokes back up hard and fast, Hux actually jerks his hips upward into his own hand. And Kylo's shivering at that, at Hux's little whimper. And he's working himself steadily, feels the flickers of sparks, of lightning that are starting to dart through him. 

He pulls his hand away, reaches up to spit in it, needs to ease the way now that he's so close. And he's about to wrap it back around his cock, is aching to have that feeling back, when Hux catches his wrist, grip tight. And one hand is still pressed in Hux's lap, his hips working against it. But he uses the free one to draw Kylo's hand in, to lick it wet as well. Kylo groans. 

Then he's spreading the slick on his cock, dirty wrong feeling of Hux's spit coating his dick, even if they touch nowhere else. And it feels so good, so wet and tight and hot. And Hux moans, long, high-pitched, a whimper at the end of it. His eyes are fixed on Kylo's hand, on the slap-slap of Kylo jerking himself off. And then, then Kylo realizes what that moan meant.

And it's the spreading patch of wet on Hux's boxers that push him over the end. It's an avalanche falling through him, pleasure and the press of Hux's eyes, and pride, and Hux's dick just inches from Kylo's spent and probably still leaking. And there. There is his back arching off the bed. There is his stomach contracting, his shoulders hunching, his cock pulsing across his chest. 

***

When he finally comes down from it, Hux is lying on the bed next to him, as naked as Kylo. And he doesn't waste any time, simply dives right in. It's just as warm, as calm inside Hux's mind as Kylo remembers. And at first there is nothing more than the easy pleasure after orgasm, the flooding warmth. But then, a corner clears, and there's success, and gratification, and satisfaction. 

And Kylo finally, finally, finally understands. 

This has been Hux's game from the start. 

He doesn't care though, doesn't care as he falls asleep easily for the first time in weeks.


End file.
